A Tell-Tale Treasure

by Megan Marple

  Stupid Edie. You already knew that, I reminded myself, my shoulders slumping. Even though I had done tons of research in the library about pirates, I still let myself get carried away with the idea that I’d be rich and famous. Shaking my head, I politely excused myself from the room as Granddaddy and Mr. Higgins were both bent over the chest examining it.

  8

  When the door to the hallway opened again, Granddaddy was grinning from ear to ear as he sought me out, leaning against the wall. “Why did you run off?”

  I stared straight ahead. “I can’t believe I fell for this. I should’ve known better than to go chasing some stupid fairytale.”

  He pulled his wiry arm around my shoulder and squeezed me. “It wasn’t a fairytale, sweetheart. If you would’ve stuck around for a while longer, you would’ve heard what Mr. Higgins had to say. Turns out, while there’s no treasure involved, the museum is very interested in acquiring the map and the chest to finish off their exhibit. And since you’re the person who found it . . . you are the person who gets the recognition.”

  “Great. Recognized for finding a box in the sand,” I replied sarcastically, “I can see the headlines now.” I was probably pushing it, but I was so disappointed that I didn’t even care.

  He snorted, walking me over to the entrance of the museum and pushing the door open for me. “Your name in the paper! I wouldn’t go snubbing my nose up at they, eh? Better than nothin’, right?”

  I shrugged again, but later on, it turned out that Granddaddy was right all along. The museum called to let us know the next day that they wanted to reward me for my ‘excavation and discovery,’ although how, they didn’t say.

  When the three of us did turn up at the museum the next day, the local newspaper was there and wanted to write an article all about it, with my name really in the paper and everything. It felt silly, but I had to admit that I felt pretty cool standing there, getting my picture taken with both Mr. Higgins and even Mayor Morris, all of us grinning as I held up the map for the photo.

  Nothing, and I mean nothing, prepared me for what had happened next though.

  Mr. Higgins and a couple of other museum employees all shook my hand one at a time and when I wasn’t paying attention, someone popped up behind him, holding out one of those giant fake checks with my name on it and next to it written plain as day, $3,000.

  Nana immediately clapped her hands over her mouth, and Granddaddy let out a loud whoop as I froze on the spot. No way. There’s no way… Are they for real? I wondered, my mind moving in slow motion, struggling to make sense of what was going on.

  With everyone staring at me, waiting for me to say something, I finally snapped out of it and my eyes went wide, my mouth dropping open with an audible pop.

  I turned for the camera to see, and held up the corner of the big check, unable to say a word, but my mouth had split into a huge grin on its own.

  THREE THOUSAND DOLLARS! THREE THOUSAND DOLLARS!? Oh, the things I could do with that kind of money! And it was all mine!

  Something tickled at the back of my brain, telling me that I was forgetting something, but I ignored it. It was the most amazing thing that had ever happened to me, and I wasn’t going to let anything ruin it.

  “I’m going to get a bike, actually probably two. One purple and one green. And tons of new books, a nice fancy bracelet, ooh, and a matching necklace, too! And tickets to Disney World, a little tree house for Poe . . .” I kept going on and on in the backseat of the car, imagining all of the awesome things that a big chunk of money like that could buy me.

  Nana just shook her head at me, smiling over at Granddaddy while he drove us back over the bridge home.

  “I think your little shopping list might be a tad bit overdoing it, sug,” Nana said as we went back inside the house.

  I waved her off. “Nah, three thousand dollars is totally enough. I might even be able to buy that dance floor at the tavern I’ve been tellin’ y’all about!”

  “Oh, here we go with that dance floor thing again,” Granddaddy pretended to groan, settling into his recliner. “I expect you’ll be wanting me to put it right on top of Mrs. Gentry and her Bridge Club’s heads, won’t you? Not a single space in there to be putting some doggone dance floor . . .”

  But I didn’t pay him any mind. Dance floor or no dance floor, the money was all mine.

  “Well I’m afraid to burst your bubble, honey, but I think it’ll be up to your Mama and Daddy just how you spend that money,” Nana called out over her shoulder as she headed into the kitchen.

  I quickly followed her, dropping my mini backpack into onto the table. “What do you mean?”

  She gave me a knowing look and grabbed the clean tea pitcher out of the cupboard. “I mean, Edie, that’s a lot of money for one young girl to look after. Your parents will be holding onto it for you for safekeeping. Except . . .”

  I was just about to open my mouth, feeling daring enough to risk arguing with her, when she pulled out four crisp twenty dollar bills from her pocket. “I pulled these out for you from the bank on the way back. Here’s $100 for you to spend on a new bike, hon. I already called and talked with Greg and Nat, and they said that they’d love for you to go pick one out today, if you want to.”

  Part of me wanted to pout about having Mama and Daddy controlling my money, but deep down I already knew it was going to happen anyway. There wasn’t really much use in whining about it. Especially when I closed my hands around ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS!

  My eyes slowly fluttered shut as I grinned and tried to savor the moment. “This is the most money I’ve ever had in my life,” I whispered out loud.

  With the new green bike in hand, I rode it down the main road, nearing the Tavern. It was already dinner time, but I insisted on taking the bike out for a spin before dark. Nana finally caved and let me go, and the first place I hightailed it to was right outside the tavern, hoping that I’d find Bigfoot hanging around.

  I had felt bad about not mentioning that he’d helped me find the chest, so I decided to get the cheaper bike and save at least twenty bucks for him. It wasn’t thirty percent, but it was all I could cough up at the time and he’d have been able to buy a new cd or something with it at least.

  I looked all around, riding back and forth along the road, hoping for a sign of him and his messy blonde head, but all I saw were cars parking at the tavern for dinner, and grownups walking on the sidewalk.

  The cars slowed to a stop as a few people darted across the crosswalk, and that’s when I saw the arm out the back window of a car. Someone with a red long sleeve hoodie was slowly bopping their head along with whatever music they were listening to, their hand riding along the wind as the car start to pull up.

  “Bigfoot!” I called out to him, waving my hands around frantically. But it was no use, the car pulled off and he never heard me, the car heading down the main road right before it turned to leave the island over the bridge.

  I didn’t know if he was leaving then or not, but I just shrugged my shoulders and hopped back on my brand-new bike, riding in the opposite direction parallel with the beach. These tourist families came back every summer anyway, so if for some reason I didn’t see Bigfoot again, he’d be back the next year and then I could give him his money and tell him all about the museum thing.

  With a happy smile on my face, I looked over and watched the waves rolling in as the wind whipped my hair into a dark frenzy around my face. I may not have been rich or all that famous, but I had a bike… and I was going places.

  9

  PRESENT DAY...

  Jessica snorted into her diet soda. “Edie, please tell me that the beautiful, brand new bike in your story is not the very same rusted green bike that’s propped up outside the back entrance, praying for a dignified death.”

  Wiping at an invisible spot on the bar-top for the millionth time, I may or may not have stuck my tongue out at her. “One, don’t hate on my bike. And two, yes it is, and you already know that because you’ve been riding
alongside me ever since.”

  My best friend smiled back at me knowingly. “That’s true . . . which is my point. I think you’re in need of an upgrade, girl.”

  I might have had my bike for longer than Jessica’s baby brother had been alive, but that didn’t mean I had to get rid of it. Sure, I’ve had to replace the wheels a couple of times... and yeah, maybe it needs it’s third or fourth paint job, but you can’t put a price on loyalty. “I got my first kiss on that bike, I’ll have you know. There are way too many memories to just give up on it because you ride around on some fancy beach cruiser. Besides, why fix it if it ain’t broke?”

  “And we’re back to the beach cruiser,” Jessica mumbled, shaking her head at me. “For someone who loves their own bike so much, you sure sound jealous about mine. It’s just a police bicycle, Edie. It’s not like I can go riding around on it at my leisure. Chief Morris would wring my neck.”

  Leave it to Jess to break out the term ‘at my leisure.’ Sometimes I wondered if she wasn’t secretly a granny trapped in a younger woman’s body.

  “You? Ha, you’re like the teacher’s pet.”

  “You used to call me the teacher’s pet,” Jessica deadpanned.

  Lifting up my shoulder, I grinned. “I know.”

  The door to the kitchen swung open and out huffed Harry Workman, carrying a tray topped with a platter of freshly fried pickles and some of our famous beer-battered onion rings. My stomach gurgled at the delicious scent that followed him as he passed by me, reminding me that Jess wasn’t the only one who needed a lunch break.

  “Harry, you want me to cover for you?” I called out to him before he walked out from behind the bar counter. “You look like you could use a break.”

  He just gave me his usual smile and waved me off, heading over to the table where the weekly Ladies’ Bridge Club came to have their lunch and do their gossiping. I couldn’t help but smile after him, knowing how he easy it was for him to go over to the older women and charm the pants right off of them. He’d probably earn himself a nice little tip, which he would try and stash in my tip jar in the back. Then I’d have to find a way to stuff it back into the cash register without him noticing—it was always a thing with me and him.

  Harry was just one of those charming older men whose eyes still sparkled like they did when he was younger. I’d seen the handsome pictures of him in his wedding tux that his wife would secretly show me when he wasn’t paying attention—he was one good-lookin’ fella. Margaret told me that the moment they met right after he came back from a tour in Vietnam, she was so tongue-tied that she tripped over her own two feet and Harry caught her in his arms with a cheesy pickup line that wouldn’t have worked coming out of anyone else’s mouth. They’ve been inseparable ever since. Talk about couple goals!

  In stark comparison, there was me, a nearly thirty-year-old barmaid who went home every night to an empty house with no one other than a sorta pet raven to share it with. When he was in the mood, that is. The truth of the matter was that I probably needed Poe a lot more than he needed me.

  “So how did you really get out of the sand trap, Edie?” Jessica’s question pulled me back out of my spinsterly thoughts.

  “The sand trap? Oh, you mean when I was a kid? I told you. There was a voice that told me how to get out. I just did what it said and managed to claw my way out.”

  Jessica lifted one dark eyebrow in my direction and the corner of her mouth quirked up just the slightest as she leaned in for another sip of her drink. “Mm-hmm. A voice.”

  This was one of the reasons I didn’t really like telling these kinds of stories, or re-telling them, rather. Bless her heart, but Jess wasn’t the most open-minded of people when it came to blind faith and simple trust in things. I had it in spades, but that was mainly because I lived it practically every day of my life, hearing the fading voices of those who were no longer with us. It was normal for me by now, but Jess? She was all facts, all rational logic and scientific evidence to support anything she put stock in. If there wasn’t some peer-reviewed journal study done about it, chances were that she didn’t believe it. But Jess has been my best friend since we were kids, and she didn’t generally question me too much about it.

  Maybe a little too defiantly, I pursed my lips and squared my shoulders. She of all people knew I didn’t like to be made fun of when it came to my ability. “Yes. Do we have to do this for the millionth time?”

  Giving me a withering look, Jess sighed. “I’m sorry Edie. I’m not trying to push your buttons or anything. I just think that what you refer to as ‘spirits’ is more likely your incredibly trustworthy intuition, that’s all. Your subconscious, even. Alice is always telling you that you have a different aura than everyone else.”

  I turned back to dry off the rest of the glasses Margaret had placed along the back counter, ready to be put away. “Annd you think Alice Dubois is crazy, too. You say intuition, I say ghosts. Tomato, tomahto.”

  In the reflection of the large mirror between the shelves of liquor, I could see Jess frowning. She was just about to add something when the front door bell dinged as someone else came inside the tavern, and both of us looked up to see a certain sweaty-faced Donald Schwein stomping into the place with his ever-present clipboard in hand. Arching an eyebrow at me, Jessica stood up and finished the rest of her drink before placing it back down neatly on the napkin.

  Don’t go, I mouthed to her, forgetting about my annoyance and knowing she didn’t have much of a choice. It was already after twelve-thirty, and Jessica was on early shift. Who was I to keep Capers Cove lady in blue from her job?

  Sorry, she silently mouthed back, giving me a sympathetic smile. “I’ll text you later. Maybe I can stop by after dinner. I might even have a drink with you, especially if you keep up the spooky woo-woo stories.”

  “Hey, you like my spooky woo-woo!” I protested, knowing very well that Jess along with the rest of the town, secretly thought there was something different about me. She, on the other hand, had the decency not to consider me a freak.

  ‘Poor girl,’ they’d say. ‘First her daddy, then her mama. It’s no wonder she talks to herself the way she does...’

  My parents had absolutely nothing to do with my ability to communicate with spirits, but there was no way to sway the minds of the folks of Capers Cove differently. One thing about our little island town is that no one is in a hurry to do anything, much less change their mind.

  No, instead of the alternative, my best friend considered me ‘highly intuitive’ and left it at that. It was the best she could offer, with her need to find the rational logic in everything trumping over my eccentric ways.

  “I’ll be here,” I said as I whirled my finger around, gesturing to the tavern.

  Jess leaned in to give me a quick squeeze before she turned up the volume on her radio.

  “Officer Cho, in service,” Jessica said into her radio, slipping something from her pocket underneath the napkin.

  Catching the corner of a green bill sticking out, I called out to her, “Jess! No way!”

  But of course, she just smiled smugly over her shoulder at me before pushing the front door wide open, the door’s bell chiming again.

  Shaking my head to myself, I scooped up the five-dollar bill and made a mental note to shove the five into Jess’s pocket the next time I saw her. Leaving me a tip... some things will never change, I swear.

  “Edie, honey? Would you mind helping Mr. Schwein out for me?” Margaret asked, slowly sliding behind me to the entrance of the kitchen.

  My shoulders sagged. Donald Schwein was the last person I wanted to deal with on a nice day like this. Heck, he’s the last person I wanted to see on any given day. “Sure thing, Margaret. Is there something particular he’s wanting this time or more of the same?”

  I knew the Workman’s were tired of dealing with Mr. Schwein the moment he started busting through the Tell-Tale’s doors, asking for their signature on the dotted line. Every time they saw him mopping his for
ehead as he came in off the sandy walkway, both Margaret and Harry Workman did everything they could to ignore him. But Donald never let them off the hook that easy.

  All he was interested in was throwing up a God-awful condominium tower and then some on prime real estate—ours. Or at least the Workman’s until they decide to retire and hopefully hand over the keys to the Tell-Tale... My eyes glazed over as I thought about that moment, telling myself to stay patient. Good things come to those who wait and all that...

  Margaret, the sweet woman that she is, gave me a sigh and nodded. Lowering her already soft-spoken voice, she leaned in and whispered, “This is the third time he’s been in here this week.”

  Without missing a beat, I huffed, looking back at him for a moment before turning my eyes back on her. “It’s only Tuesday! You know what? I’ll handle him for you. All it will take is a good elbow-strike to the gut. He’s got enough of it that it won’t do any real damage . . .” I said, my scowl quickly turning into a grin as Margaret playfully swatted at me.

  “As much as I appreciate your karate expertise, dear, I’m afraid it might not be advisable in this situation.”

  I took her hand in mine, seeing the way her expression slipped easily back to worry. “It’s Taekwondo, Margaret,” I teased. “But I understand. And I suppose you’re right, we should probably handle this with our words like Daddy always taught me. I just wish the man would stop coming around here, pestering y’all. Hopefully he’ll see that Capers Cove doesn’t want some hoity-toity condos being built here and we won’t have to deal with him anymore.”

  She patted my back and I turned away, fixed my glasses and adjusted my barmaid apron, quietly bracing myself to deal with Donald Schwein and his never-ending persistence.